


Give me a show

by chaos_monkey



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced Orgasm, Fuck Or Die, M/M, No Lube, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Xenophobia, some dehumanization, unwanted arousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/pseuds/chaos_monkey
Summary: Angel forces Thrawn and Eli to 'perform' for him in front of the other prisoners.
Relationships: Angel/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 16
Kudos: 50
Collections: Thrawn Kinkmeme Fills





	Give me a show

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the [Thrawn kinkmeme](https://thrawnkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/)!
> 
> Mind those tags, folks. It's pretty dark.

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” Angel sneered, holding the alien’s red gaze and enjoying the even more wooden expression on its face. He could hear the other prisoners shifting; a sudden intake of breath from one of them as the full meaning of his words sank in. “I’m bored. You’re going to give me a show. Fuck him. The mouthy little one,” he added, pointedly shifting his stare. 

Pretty Boy blanched and shrank back, eyes widening, and the alien lieutenant’s jaw twitched.

“I will not.” 

Angel sighed, shrugged, and stood. “Either you do what I say or he dies ‘escaping’,” he said conversationally, leveling his blaster at the little Imperial’s head and keeping a comfortable distance back from the cage. 

“Your orders—” 

“Cygni doesn’t give me _orders,_ ” Angel snapped, his finger twitching on the trigger. “He gives me _requests_ and I decide whether he’s still worth the trouble of keeping around. And _you’ve_ got three seconds to decide if this one lives or dies. One. Two. Thr—” 

“ _Stop,_ ” the alien interrupted, hands clenching into fists as naked anger flashed across its sharp features. 

Angel smiled and sat down again, lounging back in his seat and idly palming himself through his pants. He didn’t lower the blaster. “That’s better. Get on with it.” 

The other prisoners were staring, wide-eyed, jaws slightly slack with shock as they edged away from the pair. The blue alien glared at Angel for a brief moment longer before turning to Pretty Boy, hands moving abortively to the fly of his uniform. 

“Ensign Vanto… I—” 

The little ensign cut him off, shaking his head. “Thrawn, just— it’s fine,” he mumbled. “Just do what he says.” 

The quiet quaver in his voice, the bright flush of humiliation in his cheeks, and the way his eyes darted around without ever quite looking at anyone were all clear testament to how _not_ fine it was. 

Licking his lips in anticipation, Angel slowly lowered his blaster and re-holstered it as the alien— _Thrawn,_ apparently— reluctantly began unfastening his pants. Angel spared a disinterested glance for the other prisoners, finding them all staring at the pair of Imperials with a sort of horrified fascination, before returning his focus to the alien lieutenant and his ensign. Thrawn was just standing there awkwardly with one hand on his soft cock, clearly trying more to hide himself from everyone’s sight than anything else, while Vanto fumbled nervously at his own uniform. 

“Well that’s not gonna do anyone any good,” Angel commented, smirking. Thrawn shot him another glare, cheeks purpling in what probably passed for a blush in whatever his species was. “On your knees, Pretty Boy. Looks like he needs a little _help_ performing.” 

Vanto hesitated until Angel reached threateningly for his blaster again; and then he swallowed hard and obediently knelt in front of his commanding officer. Thrawn was staring straight ahead at the blank wall, still holding the base of his cock in a tightened grip. 

Another hesitation, coupled with a glance upwards, and then Vanto visibly braced himself and leaned in to get to work. Angel ran his tongue over his teeth in an open-mouthed grin, rubbing at his own thickening cock through his pants as he watched Vanto start sucking, both hands braced on Thrawn’s hips. Thrawn finally looked down, jaw clenched tight, working his hand over himself in time with Vanto and clearly trying to simultaneously ignore what he was doing while _also_ trying to get hard enough to fuck his little ensign like he’d been told to. 

Either Vanto was really good at giving head, or Thrawn was really good at the whole self-control thing, or _both,_ because it didn’t take all that long before he was stiffening up, cock thickening in his own grip and Vanto’s mouth. 

“That’ll do,” Angel ordered impatiently. “Bend him over.” 

Vanto pulled off with an obscenely wet slurp and climbed back to his feet, panting. Since he’d already gotten his pants unfastened, all Thrawn had to do as the ensign turned around and bent over, gripping the cage bars for support with his face mostly hidden behind his arm, was push his clothes down enough to bare his cute little ass. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Angel said, idly undoing his own fly without looking away. “C’mon.” 

Thrawn gripped Vanto’s hip with one hand and lined himself up with the other, his half-hard cock glistening with the ensign’s own spit. He muttered something Angel couldn’t quite hear— and didn’t really care about anyway— and started slowly pushing forward. He slipped, once, cock popping out and dragging a bitten-off whimper and a wince from Vanto; but he made it in. 

Vanto was panting hard by then, knuckles white around the bars of the cage and his olive-green uniform pants slipping farther down his thighs as Thrawn sank deeper inside him. The alien lieutenant started moving, so slow and shallow it couldn’t even be called ‘thrusting’ by the most generous definition. 

“What the hell is this, kiddy play-time?” Angel snapped. “I thought I told you to _fuck_ him. Not tickle him with your dick.” 

Thrawn went still, blazing red eyes fixing on him unblinkingly, and for a split second, Angel thought he was going to have to go through with his threat— but then Vanto whimpered again, nodding. 

“It’s okay, Thrawn,” he said, voice slightly muffled by his arm. “I can take it.” 

Angel could almost _hear_ the alien lieutenant grinding his teeth. Thrawn held the stare for another heartbeat or two, and then looked away, widened his stance a little, and finally started fucking his ensign _properly._

Vanto bit down on a gasp as Thrawn pulled back and drove into him harder, fingers tightening on his hip to hold him still. The alien had clearly taken his ensign’s words to heart, because he didn’t stop that time. 

Slouching down further in his chair, Angel settled in to watch, stroking himself idly and not bothering to hide his triumphant grin. A couple of the other prisoners had turned away, determinedly _not_ watching what was going on just a few feet away from them, but the others couldn’t seem to look away— except to glance over at Angel and quickly away again— their expressions ranging from open disgust to poorly-hidden, uncomfortable interest in one or two cases. 

Thrawn kept going, hips pumping steadily like some kind of fucking _droid._ From the blankly focused look on his face, he could have been doing nothing more than going through a boring workout routine while in a bad mood. Vanto, on the other hand… Angel smirked, fisting himself a little harder. _Vanto_ kept trying and failing to stifle his own choked-off moans as he was jolted back and forth. The soft sounds had a definite pained overtone to them— but he was getting hard despite it, slowly but surely, cock stiffening up as it swung back and forth with Thrawn’s thrusts. 

“Aw, he _likes_ it,” Angel said mockingly. “Don’t be selfish, _Lieutenant._ Give him a hand.” 

Thrawn didn’t look at him, but he slowed and shifted his stance, reaching around and closing his hand over Vanto’s filling erection without ever fully stopping. Vanto twitched and buried his face in his forearm as Thrawn started jerking him off, hips hitting his bared ass with faintly audible _slaps_ of skin-on-skin. 

Angel let them go at it like that without any more commands, the little ensign’s hiccupping sobs of mingled humiliation and reluctant pleasure sending dark tendrils of lust curling hot through his gut as he stroked himself less and less lazily. One of the other prisoners kept shifting in place as he watched, hand occasionally, subtly twitching towards the tent in his pants before he caught himself again— especially as a hint of desperation began to touch Vanto’s panting moans, Thrawn’s previous stubborn silence broken by quiet grunts of effort. 

His own breathing starting to get a touch ragged and uneven, Angel shifted his full attention back to his little show. The alien’s eerily glowing eyes were shut, his head back and mouth slightly slack as he drove in and out, fist pumping Vanto’s cock in the same quick rhythm. Vanto’s face was still buried in his own arm with only his mouth visible below it, hanging open as he panted for air while Thrawn fucked him— and then Thrawn breathed out a clipped, shivering groan, the first real sound of pleasure he’d made; and to Angel’s slight surprise and dark delight, Vanto jerked and shuddered and _came_ with a bitten-off whine, painting glistening streaks over the scuffed durasteel floor and the bars of the cage. 

Angel fisted himself faster, breathing hard as he watched Vanto twitch and quiver and sag forward against the bars of the cage with come dripping from the flushed tip of his cock. He hadn’t expected _that_ when he’d been struck with the idea of making them do this, but— 

The tension coiling in his gut tightened and crested and Angel remembered just in time to aim himself down at the floor between his boots before he came with a low groan and a curse, cock throbbing in his tight grip and release rushing through him in a wave of heat. He kept toying with himself as he finished coming, squeezing the last few pulses of come from his twitching cock and watching with detached interest as Thrawn gave him a dark look and abruptly stopped. 

The alien Imperial pulled out carefully and quickly, awkwardly tucked himself away, his still-raging erection tenting his pants obscenely out in front of him. He helped the little ensign upright— very un-subtly shielding Vanto from Angel’s view as he did, and Angel snorted in amusement as he did his own fly back up, too relaxed and pleased with himself to be annoyed that he hadn’t technically _told_ Thrawn he could stop. 

Stretching indolently, he got to his feet and sauntered past the cage towards the hallway, fingering the blaster at his hip and glancing pointedly down at the wet spatters of come on the floor of the cage. 

“I’ll be sure to let Cygni know how much you’re _enjoying_ our hospitality,” he said with a smirk; then headed for the bridge, whistling to himself. 


End file.
